Oneshot: Can it Be?
by Anonymous Piggles
Summary: A deformed face was not what many girls wanted. Clary Fray finds it especially hard to cope with until one day a mysterious boy comes across her in the woods. ONESHOT.


**This is actually one of my school assessments, but I really enjoyed writing it so I thought I would tweak it a bit and make a fanfiction about it. Notice the summary _and_ title say oneshot, so unless there is a giant amount of readers who want this to be continued, it will not be. Enjoy! Note: Jonathan is Jace, not Sebastian.**

 **Can it Be?**

Hushed murmurs were whispered behind me as I clambered down the large alley, venturing to the only place that could help me cope with my emotions. Sympathy no longer existed in my world, nonetheless acceptance. There were only insults and humiliation constantly being thrown at me. I couldn't go anywhere without being mocked about my deformed face. No one cared about what _I_ was actually like, and that I too, had feelings. Not a day would go by without me dreaming about how it would be to live with an ordinary face. For a fifteen year old girl, it was too much to cope with.

Turning the corner, I entered one of the few hectic Colorado streets, heading towards the sparse forest at the end of the block. My shoes scuffed against the rough gravel of the sidewalk as I scurried towards the clearing in front of the first few trees. Once the jumbles of people along the sidewalks diminished, I refined my posture and made a break for the forest. There was only one area near the end of the forest that could calm the blazing fire swirling around in my chest. Of course that's where I was headed.

I passed the familiar oak tree, and bowed down to shuffle through the curtain of leaves. When I emerged, I found myself facing the same clearing. The rush of waves was audible from where I stood. Approaching the dangerous edge of the abrupt cliff, I gazed downwards at the clatter of waves rebounding against the cliff's face.

My legs dangled boldly over the rim, no longer intimidated by petty risks. A sudden rustle of leaves brought me up to steady feet. I pivoted around, facing the sudden sound. A young boy around my age stood awkwardly at the mouth of the forest.

Astonishingly, the first words splitting the silence came from me. "How did you get here?" I asked dubiously.

The boy's head lowered, but I still noticed the slight red creeping up his cheeks. Still, I fixed my sage eyes on him and stared accusingly. Before I could question him again, he spoke. "I followed you here," he muttered curtly, just loud enough for me to hear. The boy seemed more embarrassed than regretful. No matter how many times I tried to catch his eye, he refused. I took that time to observe his appearance. He had a messy mop of fine gold hair atop a long face with prominent cheekbones. The boy was a bit gangly, but still towered over my petite frame. Then there were his hands. Loose discolored flesh covered his inhuman fingertips. When he moved his fingers, the motion was jerky and somewhat robotic.

Seeming to have finally looked up, the boy regarded me gaping at his hands. "Nothing heroic. I was born without feeling in my fingers. Some scientists and doctors replaced them with these mechanical machines." He flexed his fingers as if to demonstrate, then held out the same hand towards me. "Jonathan."

I stared down at his outstretched hand, unsure. Of course I was going to be hesitant. Over the numerous years, isolation hasn't treated my social side very well. Gradually, I reached forwards, grasping his plastic hand firmly in my own, still hesitant. "Clary," I introduced, lacking any self-esteem I might have had.

Jonathan continued to grasp my hand, and I struggled to release my fingers. "Oh, I'm sorry," Jonathan said sheepishly, loosening his grip dramatically. "I am not use to talking to others."

A puzzled frown spread across my lips before I could conceal it. "I guess we're similar."

"I guess we are." A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth.

Feeling slightly awkward, I made my way back to the edge of the cliff, ignoring the tickle of hair against my cheek. "You know why I come here everyday?"

Hurrying over, Jonathan sat himself down next to me hastily. He shook his head.

"Days and days have past without anyone offering me empathy. No one who could understand what it was like to be pushed away all their lives," I explained, pensively gazing up at the orange tinted sky. " This remote cliff provides me with all the company I need. At least it presented me with enough company till I began to realize I needed _real_ relationships, ones with _real_ people. Not ones with a landform. But no matter how many times I told - tell - myself, I couldn't bring myself to abandon this deserted cliff." I let my head drop into my palms. Softly, I added, "Why did you follow me?"

Heavy silence fell upon us, and for a little bit, I believed maybe Jonathan hadn't heard. Before I could repeat, he opened his mouth. "For a while, I was searching for someone, too." Pausing for a moment, he searched for the correct words. "Someone who could see what it was like to be turned away from. Then I see you running along the street. Even with your hidden face, I could sense you were retreating. So I followed you. Watched you sit and gaze down at the water."

Surprisingly, his confession didn't strike me as alarming or creepy at all. "If you knew how it felt to be pushed away, why show yourself today?" I questioned sadly, removing my face from my hands.

At this, Jonathan smiled. "I planned never to approach you actually, I accidentally tripped and fallen over a shrub. Sorry if I disturbed you, but I do believe I can make quite a racket."

I stayed silent, not knowing what to mention next. To my relief, Jonathan started talking again. "Do you ever think closing yourself off from others doesn't change anything? How isolating yourself more will not change what you feel? Some days, I stick my hands in my pockets to hide them from view. I regret the times I have done that now. My hands are what others do not have, I should embrace them, not disguise them. They may look uncanny at first glance, sure, but have you ever thought what it would be like to be without a disfiguration? How you would be one of the kids taunting instead of the kid who is being taunted. Would you prefer that?"

The thought struck me like a blow to the stomach. All the years I wasted hiding in the shadows, trying to stay unnoticed. My throat tightened significantly. I swallowed and waited until the feeling withdrew. Then, too my surprise, I twisted around to face Jonathan. And for the first time in a while, I let the corners of my lips release the prison holding my permanent frown, and let my mouth twitch upwards into a genuine smile.

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